Betrayed By My Breasts

I breastfed all my babies.  You don't even want to know for how long. 

Once, in the locker room, a woman criticized me for bringing my little boy in to change, accusing him of staring at her breasts.

I was polite, of course, but I did point out that as a breastfeeding mother, with many breastfeeding friends, my son saw breasts all the time.  To him, breasts were for feeding babies.  That this woman thought a six year old boy would be looking at breasts in a sexual way is just sad.

"Breast" is not a "bad word" in our home.  Even after I stopped nursing my kids, I volunteered as a breastfeeding counselor.  (I still do, though I am far less active than I once was.)

I talked about breasts ALL the time.

So, when I learned that I had breast cancer, I felt betrayed by my body.

Breastfeeding lowers the incidence of breast cancer, both in mothers and their babies.  I breastfed ALL my babies, for a LONG time.  How could my breasts betray me like this??

My breasts were a source of life.  My children lived on breast milk alone for anywhere between 6 months to a year (depending on the kid).  Even after my kids started eating solids, breast milk was their primary source of nutrition.  Later, it was a valuable supplement for them.  When they were breastfeeding, my children almost never got sick.  Breast milk was the elixir of life!

How could my breasts turn from a source of life to a threat of death??

How could they contain cancer???

I did not know how to look at my body anymore.

My body had betrayed me.

My breasts had betrayed me.



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Betrayed By My Breasts -- Part III (final installment)

I still needed to learn to live with my body again.
When I was first diagnosed, I desperately wanted to "save my breast."

The lumpectomy left my breast deformed and ugly.  It also did not remove all the cancer.

Once I realized that a mastectomy was inevitable, I knew that I wanted reconstruction. 

I teach swimming; I am in the locker room all the time;  breasts are everywhere.

I am very open about my experiences, but it has always been my choice about when and where to share that information.  I did not want the stares, or the pity.

So, I went to one of the best plastic surgeons in the world (thank God for insurance!!).  I had a skin-saving mastectomy, followed by DIEP reconstruction, using my own tissue to rebuild my breast.  I could still feel sensations on the surface of my skin.  Eventually, regenerated nerve tissue created sensation within the breast as well.  The new breast became be a part of me, not just some foreign object inserted into my body.

But, was that enough?

On the outside, I looked "normal."

No doubt, that felt good.

But it took time until I could look at my body without just seeing all those scars.

It took a while before "the new breast" became "my breast." 

Eventually, the wounds healed and the scars faded.

Once again, I felt "normal."

Normal felt good.

I was done with breast cancer.

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My story should end here, but it does not.

Only a few months after I had put cancer behind me, a routine mammogram, and follow up tests, revealed devastating news.

What began in my breast, now resided in my bones, liver and lungs.


I no longer had to worry about my breasts.... I had cancer all over my body.

My journey into the world of breast cancer had only just begun.


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Betrayed By My Breasts -- Part II

I needed to find someone else like me.  Not just any other survivor, I specifically searched for other breastfeeding counselors or lactation consultants, who survived breast cancer.

I felt there was something special, and ironic, about being a breastfeeding counselor and having breast cancer.

Surely, someone who spends so much of her time talking about breasts, and handling breasts, must have a particularly hard time dealing with breast cancer.

I worried about my ability to continue counseling breastfeeding mothers.  Would I be able to provide the same level of support?  Should I resign, as a La Leche League leader, from our local organization?

I was not ready to close off that part of my life.

I spoke with other leaders from my area.  They encouraged me to listen to my heart, and embraced me when I chose to stay.

Today, I still sit on our area council and assist in our local district.  I also continue to counsel mothers by phone and in person.

Other leaders, who know me, know that I have breast cancer.  I do not share that information with the mothers I help.

I never did find another breastfeeding counselor with whom to share my experiences.

That need passed.


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA